


In Your Dreams

by Healthyeyes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comfort, Dean Winchester Has Nightmares, Dean Winchester Has PTSD, Desperate Dean Winchester, Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29600928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Healthyeyes/pseuds/Healthyeyes
Summary: “Sam, I thought you were goin’ to the library?” Dean groaned on the other side of the door. Cas rolled his eyes, but pushed the door lightly open. He was surprised to see Cas. Since when had he learnt enough human-manners to knock?“Not Sam.” He said, slipping in and closing the door behind him.“You know, most people say ‘goodbye!’ or ‘see ya later’ before they hang up the phone, Cas.” Dean said, sounding annoyed as he took a seat on the bed. Castiel stopped, hovering at the foot of Dean’s bed. He saw Sam’s belongings abandoned on the bed beside Dean’s, a duffle bag, a plaid shirt, a handgun. The regular Winchester arsenal.“You said you needed help, so I came. I am not sure what you want me to do, however.” Cas said, looking back to Dean, a bit puzzled.“I dunno...Can’t you like, use your angel powers to make me sleep? Without dreaming?” Dean asked.Cas looked down at him. He realized he looked absolutely exhausted.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 112





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Working on ch 2 currently!

Castiel looked at his cellphone, a burner that Dean had given him some time ago. It vibrated in his hand as he recognized the number on the tiny screen. He looked around at the people near him; He had seated himself in a diner with a cup of coffee in hand, staring out the large window. He wore his usual attire, trench coat, white shirt, tie, and his brown hair was slightly mussed. He didn’t need the coffee of course, but it had become a habit from spending so much time with the Dean as of late, and truthfully, he had missed it. It didn’t escape Castiel’s notice that as soon as he had thought of Dean, he called. It brought a small smile to his face as he answered the phone.

“Dean.” Cas said, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hey Cas.” Dean said through the phone. It was good to hear his voice, Cas thought to himself. 

“How are you?” Cas asked eagerly. He felt he was beginning to understand the pace of human phone conversations. A recent improvement. His fingers danced over the rim of his cup as he observed the people going about their day around him.

“Well, actually, that’s what i’m kinda calling about--” Dean began, but Castiel cut him off, feeling a panic grip him. He sat up straighter in his booth. He could hear the strain in Dean’s voice, the hesitation.

“Dean, are you hurt?” Cas asked. 

“No, no, Cas, just listen,” Dean said, sighing. “I uh...I haven’t slept in a couple days more than an hour or so at a time. I keep...having these uh...nightmares, flashbacks, whatever you wanna fucking call them.” He heard Dean sigh on the other end. “I’m at the end of my rope here, Cas. I just snapped at Sam over a goddamn episode of The Simpsons. I dunno what you can do with your angel powers, but i’m...kinda desperate.”

Cas frowned. He hung up.

In a blink, he was outside a motel in Houston. It was decent looking, with clean sidewalks and two floors of rooms in the white-wash painted low-rise building. Castiel could feel Dean nearby, their bond calling out to him, and he let himself be pulled in his direction to room 15. He knocked lightly. 

“Sam, I thought you were goin’ to the library?” Dean groaned on the other side of the door. Cas rolled his eyes, but pushed the door lightly open. He was surprised to see Cas. Since when had he learnt enough human-manners to knock?

“Not Sam.” He said, slipping in and closing the door behind him. 

“You know, most people say ‘goodbye!’ or ‘see ya later’ before they hang up the phone, Cas.” Dean said, sounding annoyed as he took a seat on the bed. Castiel stopped, hovering at the foot of Dean’s bed. He saw Sam’s belongings abandoned on the bed beside Dean’s, a duffle bag, a plaid shirt, a handgun. The regular Winchester arsenal. 

“You said you needed help, so I came. I am not sure what you want me to do, however.” Cas said, looking back to Dean, a bit puzzled. 

“I dunno...Can’t you like, use your angel powers to make me sleep? Without dreaming?” Dean asked. 

Cas looked down at him. He realized he looked absolutely exhausted; his shoulders were slumped, his face gaunt and the dark circles beneath his usually bright eyes making him look like he’d seen enough of life for a thousand men. And he had. Being in Hell had left it’s mark on Dean in his mind, and occasionally it came about in these bouts of insomnia. Castiel had seen it before, but never this bad. 

“I can. Lie down.” Cas said, nodding to the bed. Dean looked like he was going to cry with relief for a moment before nodding. He shuffled on his bed, getting himself comfortable beneath his blankets, looking at Cas expectantly.

Cas moved to sit on the edge of the bed beside him, and he put out his hand towards Dean’s face, cupping his cheek in his hand. That was something Cas didn’t  _ have _ to do, a light touch would have sufficed, but he felt for Dean in that moment. The weight of the world was on his shoulders, and he deserved to know he was safe in Cas’ hands. Dean even leaned into it a bit, an action Castiel found endearing, and even a bit surprising. He blinked, long lashes over green eyes, looking at him like he was his savior. Castiel didn’t consider himself so, but he savored Dean’s expression all the same.

“Close your eyes. Try to relax.” Castiel said, his voice low. He waved his hand and the lights in Dean’s room turned off. Dean did as he was told, closing his eyes and trying his best to relax. In the back of his mind though, as Cas reached out with his powers, Dean knew Castiel could see Dean’s fear at the nightmares that threatened to tear him apart. Images of Hell that Castiel always found uncomfortable to look at, and even more so when he saw Dean suffering from them. He could see in his mind his memories, the smell of burning flesh, the sounds of screaming and crying, visions of torture and blood and fire. It was enough to chill Castiel to the bone, knowing what he went through. Cas had followed him through it all for forty years...but Cas was built to withstand such tortures. A human soul? It was a wonder Dean had made it out at all.

Dean lied there with his eyes closed, still acutely aware of the feeling of Cas’ hand on his face, warm and gentle. He took a breath as he could feel Castiel reaching out to his mind, exploring his memories, filtering through the nightmarish ones that hovered at the forefront. As Dean could feel himself falling asleep under Castiel’s influence, he was also aware of the memories that had been plaguing him so terribly were slipping away, disappearing. They were replaced slowly by ones of happiness. A river where he went fishing with Sam. Driving down the highway with Cas in the passenger seat. His mother, making pancakes.

Cas let his hand fall away from Dean’s face. He was asleep now, breathing slowly but steadily, face turned to the right. Cas watched him for a moment, sitting on the edge of his bed, marvelling at him; How long had he lasted before he’d called Cas? He hadn’t been specific, and that troubled Cas more than anything. Cas hesitated before leaning over and pressing his lips to Dean’s forehead, channeling a bit more of his powers to give him a restful, long sleep. 

* * *

When Dean awoke, he felt like a new man, so to speak. Having had the best sleep he was sure he'd had in the last decade had put him in a good mood as he stretched out in his bed, rolling over onto his back to look at the ceiling. His eyes scanned his empty room, and he wondered absentmindedly where Cas had gone. Not like he expected him to watch him while he slept or anything, that’d be creepy, but the thought lingered, feeling the longing for Castiel's calming figure.

He looked up when Sam walked out of the bathroom, steam pouring from his recent shower as he towel-dried his shaggy hair. 

“Sleeping Beauty’s finally awake.” Sam said with a chuckle, chucking his towel at Dean. Dean took it with an ‘oof’ before throwing it back across the room at Sam, grumbling. 

“How long was I out for?”

Sam looked at his watch as he put it back on his wrist. “About fourteen hours.”

Dean scoffed, surprised as he sat up in bed, scratching at his hair. 

“Shit.”

“Yeah. We got a ghost to catch--come on.” Sam said, nodding to him. 

Dean sighed and shuffled out of the stiff motel bed to the bathroom. “Get me a coffee. I’ll be ready in ten.”

“Alright. You get the gear, i’ll meet you at the car.”

As he heard Sam slip out of the room in search of coffee, he heard another sound; rustling wings. He heard a familiar voice call out to him.

“Dean?”

“Cas. Hey. In here.” Dean said, splashing his face with water from the tap. Cas stepped across the room, standing in the doorway of the bathroom as Dean dried his face with a white hand towel. 

“How did you sleep?” Cas asked, leaning on the doorway.

“Uh...great, actually. Thanks, Cas.” 

“Good. I can’t stay long. Just wanted to make sure I didn’t inadvertently put you into a coma.” Cas said, sounding rather serious. Dean stared at him in disbelief for a moment. 

“A coma? Does that happen  _ often? _ ” Dean asked.

“No. Not usually.” Cas said. “But using such a small amount of power can be tricky.”

“Hmph. Well, thanks for the warning.” Dean said, rolling his eyes as he grabbed his toothbrush. 

“Well...do the  _ nightmares _ happen often? You could have given me some indication you were suffering so much from them. I would have intervened earlier.” Cas said. Dean steeled his jaw. 

‘Whether i’m having nightmares every damn night or not ain’t your problem. You’ve got bigger fish to fry with the winged family up there.” Dean said, gesturing vaguely towards the ceiling. 

Cas rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Dean, your well being is my concern.” Cas said with a sigh. “How many times do we have to have this conversation? I care about you.”

Dean felt it again, the twinge in his gut when he looked at Cas whenever he said something like  _ that _ . He tried his best to rationalize it: The clueless angel could never understand what that  _ really _ meant...could he?--and besides, how could a divine celestial being be interested in a tiny, boring human? 

Still, it made his stomach do flips and his heart beat faster, which only made it  _ worse _ because he knew Cas could hear it. Could see the flush of his cheeks and neck. He began to say something catty instead of the real feelings that threatened to bubble over, but it caught in his throat. He looked away from Cas, looking at himself in the large hotel room mirror. He was still in his boxers and black t-shirt, his skin looking dewy from being freshly washed. His hair was messed up on the right side still, and he fixed it, self-conscious of Cas staring at him. 

“Shut up. Stop staring.” Dean said, jabbing his toothbrush in Cas’ direction. Cas smirked, took one far too meaningful look at him, and then with the sound of rushing wings, he was gone. 

Dean let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. What the  _ fuck _ was  _ that _ Dean wondered to himself, thinking of Cas’ blue eyed gaze sweeping from his legs to his arms. It had been so  _ deliberate. _ It made heat pool in the pit of his stomach.

  
Dean turned the tap on to cold and splashed himself with the bracing water. At this rate, he’d need a goddamn  _ long  _ cold shower to chill him out.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean dreamed again.

The hunt had gone well enough with Sammy, but he’d been dreading attempting to sleep again after they got back to the bunker a week ago. It was well past midnight again, Sam had gone to bed after dinner, and Dean was still awake, trying to fend off the thoughts that came with the inevitable nodding off; Flesh ripping from his shoulders by hooks, demons pressing into him from all sides, spitting teeth onto the floor. And then it repeating, day in and day out. Over and over. 

Suddenly, the book that Dean had been holding in his hand was lifted from him. Dean’s gaze fluttered open, crossing that line between half-asleep and awake, and he found Cas standing in front of him, snapping the book shut. 

“Cas? How long have you been here?” Dean asked, a bit disorientated, lost in his nightmares still, willing himself to calm down. 

“Long enough to see.”

“Cas, I said it wasn’t your concern--” Dean said with a sigh, snatching his book back from Cas as he stood up, his chair scraping as he did. He was irritated, stretched thin like an elastic ready to snap.

“Dean, why won’t you  _ talk _ about this with me, I can help you--”

“Because it fucking terrifies me, alright, Cas?! Fuck!” Dean yelled, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. He looked at Cas for a moment, then turned away, his hands on his head as he walked towards the hallway. 

“Dean.” 

Dean didn’t stop. He heard Cas’ steps following him. 

“Dean, please--”

He didn’t stop, reaching his room. He was almost able to slam his door shut, but Cas caught it with an open hand. He followed Dean inside and closed it gently behind him as Dean paced.

“Cas, I can’t, alright, I just  _ can’t _ .” Dean said, stopping suddenly and addressing him directly in a quieter voice, knowing that Sam was sleeping a few rooms over. 

“It’s alright, Dean. You don’t have to.” Cas said, his voice slow and reassuring. 

Dean felt a bit of relief, but it didn’t quell the fear that threatened to overtake his body. It wasn’t until Cas’ hands were on his shoulders that he realized he’d been shaking. The memories threatened to overtake him, exhaustion having set in long ago, all of it pressing at the edges of his mind. He didn’t want to sleep if it meant reliving his failures, or seeing his loved ones burned alive, or having his flesh and soul ripped into by demons for years on end. 

But when he felt  _ those _ hands, Castiel’s hands, lie on his shoulders, he felt familiarity. He couldn’t remember it specifically, but he felt it in his gut, the memory of Cas dragging him from hell, a bright light that had found him amidst all that pain and darkness and brought him  _ home.  _

He collapsed into Cas’ arms, hugging him close, needing his touch to tether him to the present.

Cas was shocked by the sudden weight of Dean on him, holding him close, and he thought he could even hear a few quiet, shaking sobs into his shoulder. He felt Dean grab at his shirt in fist fulls, and Cas locked his arms protectively around him, holding him as tightly as he could to his human vessel. If only he could see his true form, with all of his wings unfurling around him, surrounding him protectively.

They stayed there for god knows how long, and it was only when Dean’s breathing had calmed to a reasonable rhythm that Cas released him just enough to have a look at him. Dean avoided his gaze, but Cas wiped the tears from beneath his eyes nonetheless. 

“Dean, you need to rest. I’ll help you.” Cas said gently, his hands resting on Dean’s shoulders. 

“I know...Just…” Dean hesitated, looking to his own bed with hesitation. Cas waited patiently. 

“What would help you?” he inquired, genuine care in his voice. 

“It’s...stupid.” Dean said. He bit his lip, staring at his hands as he wrung his wrists.

“What do you need, Dean?” Cas insisted.

“Will you stay? I...Just...don’t want to be alone.” Dean finally admitted in a quiet voice, his eyes looking anywhere but at Cas. 

Cas was a bit surprised, but nodded, trying his best to give Dean a reassuring smile. 

“Of course, Dean.” Cas said, seeing the relief in Dean’s eyes at his answer. He stopped wringing his wrists, and instead nodded, his shoulders dropping as he let out a breath he’d been holding in. Cas’ hands slid down his shoulders, over his arms and took his hands in his. Dean seemed a bit surprised at the contact as Cas laced his fingers between Dean’s, but he quickly softened into it, knowing his face was probably red in the dim light. 

They were safe, Dean repeated to himself. He was in the bunker, possibly the safest place for a hunter on the planet, with Cas, probably the strongest being he knew. They were hidden from prying eyes or knives, both of them nestled away in the safety of his room. There were no demons here, no vampires, nothing that was going to eat him.  _ He was safe. _ Cas’ thumb ran over the back of Dean’s hand, and Dean felt the tension beginning to leave his body. Cas tugged gently at him, and he was led to his own bed. 

Dean felt Cas’ hand leave his as he moved to unbutton his shirt for bed, leaving the dark blue shirt hanging over the chair in the corner. Cas too he noticed, removed his trench coat, but he folded it neatly and set it on the chair seat, neat and tidy. It made Dean snort. 

“You’re always so neat.” 

“Well, I want to respect your space.” Cas said. 

Dean paused, considering his words with a small ‘huh’. He hadn’t considered, truly, that this  _ was _ his space, and Cas was the first person he’d bothered to bring to his bed. Even if he didn’t intend to bed the angel tonight, the vulnerability in the act said it all between them; the trust was inherent between them. Cas would protect Dean, even from his own mind, it seemed. 

Dean tossed his pants and socks onto the chair too, messing up Cas’ neat pile of clothes, both of them in their boxers as they climbed into Dean’s bed, tucking themselves beneath the sheets and heavy blanket. 

Cas could hear Dean’s breath as he waved a hand, the lights turning off for them, slow and steady. He was warm, Cas thought, feeling the heat rolling off of him beneath the blankets, a heater all himself. Cas inched closer, and his hand found Dean’s, lacing their fingers together again. He heard Dean’s breath catch, just for a moment. 

“Relax. Close your eyes.” Cas instructed. Dean nodded, obeying and letting his eyes flutter close, his long lashed brushing against his cheeks. Cas studied him for a moment, marvelling at the cosmos of freckles that dotted his face, a universe all it’s own drawn on Dean Winchester’s skin. He breathed out, and let his powers channel between them, following Dean’s example and closing his eyes as Dean drifted off to sleep. 

* * *

Dean could hear the sound of a river rushing nearby, and he could hear the songs of birds in the trees above him. He knew this was a dream, a memory of a river that he had stopped to fish at once in Washington during Salmon season. And just like that, he had his rod and tackle kit in one hand, his cooler filled with beer in the other. 

Dean smiled and made his way to the river, admiring the thick forests of old growth trees that stretched tall towards the sky, disappearing into the canopy. The ground was covered in leaves, and it looked like it had rained recently, the earth still a bit squishy beneath his boots. 

Dean found the river, and made himself a spot on a rocky shoreline, setting his cooler and tackle box down. Before long, he was relaxing, sitting on a rock, his bait in the river as he sipped on a cold beer. The sky was blue and the sun was bright and warm, but he was shaded by the trees that lined the river, wind gently rustling the leaves.

Then he heard footsteps. Dean didn’t remember footsteps in this memory. 

“This is a lovely memory, Dean. Where is this?” 

Dean was surprised to see Cas approaching, wearing his usual white shirt, black suit jacket and trench coat. His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he waltzed into Dean’s dream like it was a regular occurrence. 

“Cas? What the hell are you doing here?” Dean asked, confused. 

“Well, it does get a bit boring, just watching you sleep. Dreams are far more interesting.” Cas shrugged, taking a beer from Dean’s cooler. He twisted the cap off and took a long sip as Dean stared at him incredulously. 

“Well, how ‘bout a bit of privacy?”

“Dean, in the real world, we’re lying next to each other practically naked. I think we’re past privacy. Besides, I need you to teach me how to fish. Jesus wasn’t very good at it when I asked him last time I tried to learn. He just multiplied whatever he caught. It felt like cheating.” Cas said, going on a bit of a tangent. 

Dean blinked, then laughed, thinking about  _ Jesus _ trying to teach Cas to fish. He motioned for Cas to come sit by him on the rock, and Cas obliged, closing the distance between them to sit on the large boulder with Dean, their shoulders and knees touching side by side. 

Dean reeled his line in.

“Alright, pay attention then. I ain’t showin’ you twice.”

Time slipped by differently in Dean’s dream, he began to notice. They were fishing for what felt like all day, and then when they were on the road, they were headed to San Francisco to see the Golden Gate Bridge. A memory of Dean’s, when he’d been on his way there for a case a few years back, travelling alone, but this time, Cas sat chatting in the passenger seat. 

And again, after their visit, they were on the road, heading South to New Orleans, a memory when he’d gone for a concert, and not told Sam, ditching his younger brother two towns over for a single night. And again, Cas was beside him--at the concert, he’d even bobbed his head along to the music. They travelled like that to a thousand places, it felt like, piecing places together that they’d never been physically to together into new memories, stitching them together to form a new part of Dean’s memories. He knew Cas was likely controlling the ebb and flow of his dream, and Dean was happy to let him; he trusted Cas with every bit of his being. 

When they’d stopped by a rolling field in the midwest, admiring the golden wheat fields that swayed in the breeze, Cas finally spoke up. They were both sitting on the hood of the Impala, the sun beginning to set in a golden haze; Dean had a beer balanced on his knee, and Cas had his hands folded on his chest, leaning against the window. 

“Dean.”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“It’s almost morning. You should awaken soon.” Cas said, looking over to him. 

Dean looked at him, and was surprised by how the light struck him in that moment; It was soft and glowing around Cas’ dark messy hair, creating a sort of halo-effect, and the gold tones made his skin look soft and tanned. Dean studied the scruff on his jaw and neck, and felt his throat go dry as his eyes settled on his lips. This was  _ his _ dream, wasn’t it? So Cas wasn’t  _ actually _ here, he was too busy controlling the damn thing, wasn’t he? This was just Dean, projecting his desire--and he’d be damned if he wouldn’t take his chance.

“I should…but…” Dean trailed off, leaning closer until Cas surprisingly closed the distance between them. 

He felt Cas’ hands on his face, holding him as he kissed him deeply, taking his breath away. Dean’s beer fell off the hood of the car, forgotten, as he was immediately in Cas’ arms, unable to get close enough to him. Cas’ hands found his back, gently caressing as Cas’s tongue travelled over Dean’s bottom lip. Dean groaned and let Cas tongue him, his hands finding Cas’ hair and tugging lightly. 

And then Dean woke up.

* * *

Dean’s eyes snapped open to see Cas’ blue ones staring back at him in the dim light of his room, illuminated only by the lamp on his bedside table. He would have felt rested, as he’d evidently gotten a full nights sleep according to his alarm clock on his bedside table, but he was too panicked, his heart hammering in his chest. They weren’t touching, like they had been in his dream, as Dean had shifted freely in his bed as he’d slept. 

“Cas--” 

“Dean--”

They both started and paused at the same time. Dean sighed, taking the lead. 

“Cas do...uhhh...do you remember--in the dream--”

“Yes.” Cas said quickly.

“Right...well...so that was  _ you _ you, then?” Dean asked. 

“...Do you often dream of me that often, Dean, that you’re unsure?” Cas asked, a playful smirk on his lips. Dean rolled his eyes. 

Dean grumbled, grabbing Cas’ white t-shirt and pulling him towards him in the bed they shared.

“Shut up and kiss me again.” 


End file.
